


The Bank Account

by ckofshadows



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:39:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckofshadows/pseuds/ckofshadows
Summary: Working at a New York City sperm bank hadn't exactly been a part of Kurt Hummel's ten-year plan, but it had flexible hours and kept him afloat while he worked an unpaid fashion internship. It wasn't so bad. He liked helping people. Of course, he'd like it a lot more if that patient with the gorgeous hazel eyes weren't hopelessly straight and married...





	The Bank Account

**Author's Note:**

> I’m finally on summer break (woo!) but am having surgery tomorrow (boo!) so I thought I’d bang out a quick one-shot today before tackling the end of Roses in December after recovering from surgery. Also I’ve probably gotten a billion details about sperm banks wrong, so my apologies in advance. Please try to suspend disbelief. Love to all!

When people asked Kurt Hummel what he did for a living, he had a standard response:  “I’m interning at a fashion house right now, and working as a receptionist to pay the bills.” He never offered more details than that.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his job. Not really. 

It’s just that a gay guy working at a sperm bank seemed like an invitation for raunchy jokes.

He’d worked odd jobs for a temp agency for a while after graduating from Parsons, but when he was placed in a position at Empire Cryobank, the match had been a good one. Kurt had the right balance of tact, candor, and humor for the job, and within a month he was hired as a full-time employee. Empire was flexible about his schedule, allowing him time to work on creating designs and patterns for his internship. He'd be a full-time designer one day. In the meantime, he liked helping people at the cryobank.

Still. If he had to hear one more person tease him about wishing he was surrounded by semen when he was a teenager...

The door opened, and a striking Latina woman walked in, startling Kurt out of his reverie. He remembered her from a consultation the previous week. She turned to look next to her, then rolled her eyes. “Where did he — oh, come _on_.” She yanked the door back open and rounded the corner, returning with a reluctant-looking man. “Get in there,” she told him, pushing him into the reception area. “You promised.”

Kurt watched with interest. The woman’s partner was handsome, with a thick head of dark hair and hazel eyes framed by long lashes. Their gazes met briefly, before the man blushed and averted his eyes.

 _Ah_ , Kurt thought. _A new one_.

First-time donors to the cryobank usually needed some hand-holding. They were embarrassed about being there and unsure about how the process worked. Kurt had been asked more than once if they’d need to use some sort of milking machine to get the sperm out.

“Hello,” Kurt said, getting up from behind his desk. “You were here last week, weren’t you?” The woman nodded. “I’m Kurt, and you are...?”

“The best wife ever, to agree to this,” she mumbled.

“Then what does that make me?” the man shot back, and the woman huffed.

“I already told you I owe you one. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not when you won’t tell me what you owe me.”

“So,” Kurt said quickly, before either of them could mention sexual favors. “Your name, please?”

“Lopez. Santana Lopez.”

Kurt leaned over his computer, clicking through the morning’s appointments. “I don’t see a Lopez on here. You called ahead?”

“Oh, sorry, my name’s Lopez. Spunk Tank here is named Blaine Anderson.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” the man — _Blaine_ — hissed, his blush deepening.

Kurt clicked on _Anderson, B._ and printed his intake sheet. He handed it to Blaine, along with a clipboard and pen. “I’ll need you to fill out a medical history for yourself and your family. If any relatives have had the conditions listed, you’ll need to provide the age at which they were diagnosed.”

Blaine met his eyes again, and Kurt inhaled a little sharply. God, this man was gorgeous. “I actually printed that form off your website and filled it out in advance,” he said, handing Kurt an envelope. 

“Well aren’t you my new favorite patient,” Kurt said, then froze when he heard the coquettish tone in his own voice. “I mean, that’s very helpful, thank you.”

“Sure.”

They smiled at each other a little dazedly until Santana cleared her throat. “Right, so where does he go to... you know, fill up the come bucket?”

Blaine choked a little. “Santana, I swear to God—”

“Just follow me,” Kurt said, grabbing a specimen cup. “Santana, would you like to come?”

She opened her mouth with a smirk, only to have Blaine clamp his hand over it. “No,” he said quickly. “She does not want to come.”

Kurt nodded and led Blaine away, as Santana called out, “I do want _you_ to come, though, hobbit!” As they turned a corner and made their way down a hallway, Kurt heard Blaine heave a heavy sigh.

“This your first time?” he asked lightly.

Blaine forced out a laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He stopped at an empty room and waved Blaine inside. “I’ll walk you through everything.”

“Through... _everything_?”

Kurt swallowed, taking in Blaine’s expression — nervous but just a bit sly. Was he really _flirting_ with him? He shook his head. No chance of that, not with the ‘best wife ever’ waiting in the reception area. “Well, I’ll leave you to take care of producing the actual specimen, of course.”

“Ah. Of course.” Blaine smiled politely, and Kurt saw no trace of the coyness from a moment ago. He must have imagined it. Wishful thinking.

“You can take a seat here... We have a selection of different types of magazines to help with, uh, inspiration. There’s also a few DVDs. The DVD player in this room has been a little finicky, though, so just push this button over here if you need me to help you.”

Blaine blinked at him slowly. “If I need you to help me?”

“With the DVD player.”

“Oh.” Was Kurt imagining the disappointment in his tone? “Okay, thank you.”

“When you’re ready to produce your specimen, make sure you aim downwards and hold the cup over your penis at this angle to catch all the semen.” Kurt tilted the cup to demonstrate. “Any questions?”

Blaine shook his head.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Kurt went back to the reception area, where Santana smirked at him for a couple of minutes.

“Hey,” she called. “Queer Eye.”

“Excuse me?” he asked flatly.

“You single?”

“You’re not my type.”

She cackled. “No kidding. So are you?”

He straightened up in his chair, reminding himself that it was unprofessional to glare at clients. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

“Interesting,” she said, leering at him.

He was about to respond, but then Blaine rounded the corner, his cheeks red and his specimen cup full.

“All done,” Blaine said, thrusting his semen at Kurt. Kurt carefully affixed labels to seal the cup’s lid, then signed his initials and had Blaine do the same. “Thanks for all your help,” Blaine said to him. “I thought it would be a lot more awkward than it was.”

“Happy to help.”

They smiled at each other a bit too long, before Blaine glanced over at Santana and seemed to remember that he was married. “We’d better go. I’ll see you next time?”

“Next time?”

“The bank said they need at least four samples,” Santana supplied, coming up to take Blaine by the elbow. “He’ll be making lots of deposits over the next couple of weeks.”

“Bye, Kurt,” Blaine called, as Santana pulled him out the door.

Kurt watched him go and sighed, wondering why an ass that luscious was wasted on a straight man.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, he didn’t see Blaine on his next appointment, nor the two following. On Tuesday afternoon he was at the factory, helping inventory a new shipment of Italian textiles. On Friday morning, he was presenting two new designs to his boss, and the following Tuesday was Kurt’s day off. Every time he looked at the schedule and saw _Anderson, B._ booked for a day he was out, Kurt pouted a little internally. Then he reminded himself about the futility of developing crushes on straight men, and dove into creating more designs.

If the designs happened to feature compact, olive-skin men with thick dark hair, well, that was just a coincidence.

 

* * *

 

The next week, he overheard two of the clinicians complaining about a patient. That wasn’t new — medical technicians weren’t as catty as fashion designers, but they had their moments — but when he heard the name, his ears perked up. 

“That guy is coming back again today. B. Anderson. He’s the worst. He occupies a room for a couple of hours, comes out with an empty specimen cup, and I swear he’s been stealing all the girl-on-girl porn magazines.”

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I remember him,” the other clinician said. “The woman he was with joined him after a few minutes. They were in there for ages, and he _still_ couldn’t squeeze out a drop.”

“Maybe he’s impotent,” the first shrugged.

“He is _not_ ,” Kurt objected, then paled when they turned to look at him. “I mean, he was in here last week and he filled a cup in a few minutes.”

“Hmph. Well, either way, he still shouldn’t be stealing our dirty magazines.”

Kurt had nothing to say to that. Porn theft didn’t seem to fit with the sweet, nervous gentleman he’d met. But for that matter, spending hours in a donation room didn’t seem to fit, either.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, Santana walked into the reception area, Blaine trailing behind her. His face lit up when he caught sight of Kurt. “You’re back!”

“As are you!” Kurt grinned.

Santana muttered something under her breath as the men smiled at each other.

“Do you remember where to go?” Kurt asked.

“I, uh... yeah.” Blaine rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you possibly show me how to work that DVD player?”

“Sure thing.”

They walked down the hall together, their hands accidentally brushing twice — not that Kurt was counting. He waved Blaine into the empty donation room and set up the DVD player for him. When he turned, for a moment he was sure that he’d caught Blaine staring at his ass.

“All set,” he said with forced cheer.

“Great, that’s... that’s great. Thank you.” Blaine swallowed. “Could you, um, maybe sit with me for a minute? Just to talk my nerves away?”

“Of course.” 

Kurt took a chair across from him. He noticed the girl-on-girl magazine on the table, and wondered if Blaine might try to steal it in a few minutes. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Well for starters, how does a man with your style end up working in a field like this?” Blaine gestured to Kurt’s clothes. “That’s a vintage McQueen shirt, isn’t it? But I can’t place the designer of your pants.”

Kurt felt light-headed. It was supremely unfair that this man was straight. “Oh, it’s, um, me. Actually.”

“You... designed those?” Blaine’s jaw dropped. “You designed those pants.”

“I did, yes.”

“I want to buy them. Please, I’ll pay whatever you charge. They’re gorgeous. They really show off your—” Blaine broke off, flushing. “I mean, they’re flattering.”

“Why, thank you,” Kurt preened. “I’m an intern at a small fashion house, and we’re actually are going to be selling these in the fall.”

“Put me down for one in every color.”

“I will do that.”

They smiled at each other for a little too long. Then Kurt cleared his throat. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

Blaine’s face lit up, and Kurt fell a little deeper. “I teach music at a public elementary school.”

Damn it. Of course he did. “That’s amazing!”

“Well, some days it’s a lot less solfège and a lot more _Mason, your violin bow is not a sword, we’ve talked about this_ , but I really love what I do.”

“The arts are so important,” Kurt said. “Glee club was the only way I managed to make it through high school. It was tough growing up a gay kid in the Midwest.”

“I completely understand.”

Kurt sighed. Blaine was sweet, but he would never understand, not really. They fell into a strange silence, before Kurt stood regretfully. “I should probably get back to the reception desk.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you for talking with me.” 

Kurt started to leave, then steeled himself with his hand on the doorknob. “And Blaine?”

“Yes?”

“These magazines are kind of expensive...”

Blaine blinked at him with those long, lovely lashes. “Magazines?”

“You’re welcome to use them for inspiration, but we really need for them to stay in the room. So our other donors can use them too.”

“I don’t...” Blaine shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

Was he really going to make Kurt say it? “The last few times you came here, the girl-on-girl magazines went missing from the rooms you used.” Kurt watched as Blaine went startlingly pale. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that they should be left in the—”

“I didn’t take them,” Blaine said, sounding hoarse.

Kurt smiled politely. “That’s fine, I just—”

“No, I’m serious, I didn’t take them. I’m the last person on earth who would take those.”

“Well, that’s not—”

“It was Santana.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed. “What was Santana?”

“She took all the lesbian porn. She said there were articles in there that she wanted to read, but I’m pretty sure she and Brittany were going to use them to... role-play or something.” Blaine almost suppressed a shudder. Almost.

“And Brittany is...”

“Her wife?”

Kurt’s knees buckled until he felt himself sink backwards into the chair. “Her wife.”

“Yes.”

“Which makes you...”

“Their sperm donor?” Blaine watched him curiously. “Didn’t Santana tell you all that during her initial appointment?”

“She met with one of our clinicians, not with me.” It was so hot in that room. Kurt needed to open a window. Or maybe take off all his clothes, and Blaine’s too. “You’re their sperm donor.”

“And their friend. I’ve known Santana and Brittany since college.”

“So when Santana said she was the best wife ever...”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “She said the thought of me masturbating was the grossest thing imaginable. But Britt is the one being inseminated, and Santana wanted to be involved in the process, so she decided that she’d come — I mean, _accompany_ me to my appointments.”

Kurt’s head was still reeling. “And when you said you’d be the last person on earth who would want lesbian porn, that would be because...”

“Because I’m gay too, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Blaine nodded and smiled in agreement, and Kurt covered his face with his hands. “Kurt? Are you all right?”

“Oh, fine.”

“Would you...” Blaine took a deep breath, and Kurt spread his fingers to peek out at him. “I would have asked you earlier but you haven’t been here... I was thinking, if you wanted, we could...”

“Dinner?” Kurt asked, his heart in his throat.

“Yes!” Blaine grinned in relief. “Yes, that. That would be great. Dinner.”

“But you have to, um... you know, first,” Kurt said, gesturing to the specimen cup.

“Not a problem. Plenty of inspiration today.”

“Blaine!” Kurt squeaked, before they both giggled. “I’m gonna go.”

“I’ll see you out there.”

He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him and fanning his cheeks fruitlessly. He had a date. A date with _Anderson, B._ Kurt smiled the whole walk back to the reception desk.

Santana was sitting in the waiting area, painting her nails. “Think he’ll be a little faster today, Ladylips?” she called.

Kurt turned to give her an unimpressed stare. “You know, donors can bring in samples. They don’t have to produce them here. You can even freeze them.”

“Oh, I know that.” She blew on her nails, then started on the other hand.

“Then why did you drag him in here?”

“I told him I owed him one for giving my wife and me all that baby batter.”

“And you repaid your debt to him by...”

Santana looked up, scowling as if he were stupid. “Bringing him to you.”

“ _What_?”

“I saw you the day of my consultation. You’re hot, you’re single, and my boy there has an ass that won’t quit. Everybody wins.”

Kurt blinked at her. “You repaid him by bringing him here to meet me.”

“Auntie Tana knows her gays. Did he man up and ask you out, or is he still pining from afar?”

“Um...”

Just then, Blaine appeared, holding an impressively full specimen cup. “All set!”

Kurt sprang to his feet, smoothing labels across the lid and blushing when his fingertips brushed against Blaine’s. They finished initialing the labels and smiled at each other.

“So, maybe tomorrow?” Kurt asked softly.

Blaine bit his lip. “Or tonight?”

“Tonight is good.”

“Seven? Six?”

Kurt glanced at the clock. “I actually get off right now—”

“Blaine actually got off like a minute ago,” Santana called, looking pleased in spite of herself.

Blaine ignored her and extended his arm to Kurt. “Shall we?”

Kurt didn’t stop smiling the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Years later, when people asked Kurt Hummel how he met his husband, he had a standard response:  “We met at the bank.” He never offered more details than that.

Some things were better kept private.


End file.
